


The Wooing Of Will Byers (And Other Mishaps)

by softzombieboy



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Accidental Dating, Lumax are both couple goals and the best wingmen, M/M, Or it is?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15372255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softzombieboy/pseuds/softzombieboy
Summary: It is the summer of 1985 and the Party are spending their days avoiding the heat in whichever location has the best air-conditioning--- namely the movie theater and cool (literally) new shopping mall. With El still in confinement and Dustin increasingly preoccupied the remaining four members group together. Lucas and Max are inescapably a couple now, which makes it a little awkward for Mike and Will as they are unintentionally tagging along on dates. It is especially uncomfortable because Mike keeps insisting that he and Will do the same romantic things as their friends. The latter is keenly aware that they are not dating but Mike's inadvertent courtship is driving him to distraction nonetheless. Probably because Will desperately (secretly and shamefully) wishes it was real.





	The Wooing Of Will Byers (And Other Mishaps)

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this was inspired by the recent season 3 teaser. One cannot resist the siren call of teenage ice cream dates. 
> 
> Disclaimer: As I was not alive then and can find no guidance online I am not sure if dating was common for high school freshman in the 80s. It’s possible that these relationships will not be ‘official’ in season 3. However, for the purposes of this story suspend your disbelief a little and focus on the interactions rather than details. It’s all in good fun, just like the monsters. I am not claiming this to be accurate or likely in any way.

It isn’t a date. None of these casual outings hold the import of such. Surely there would be some dialogue between them if it was that— and knowing Mike such an overture would rocket up brilliant and frenetic as a firework. He’s always been endearingly awkward and at a particularly gangling fourteen has yet to grow into most parts of himself. El would be the expert on Mike’s haphazard (but earnest, always so heartfelt) courting style. She has shared her experiences lying on her side facing Will, heads pillowed on curled arms as they talk in secretively hushed tones. He knows all about how Mike treats his crush. And anyway, the only template of dating Will has is that of a boy and girl. Two people of the same gender dating is taboo in Hawkins and he knows with certainty that there is no space in their small town to try. No space anywhere if the newscasters are to be believed. Not to mention Mike still sometimes stares at El like he’s having a religious experience. Mike and Will have never and will never go on a date. It’s just that they often seem to end up on one.

 

Perhaps it is because Mike’s preferred partner is only released like a captive dove on a rare occasion. Perhaps it is because Dustin has taken Nancy’s reassurance of later success with girls to heart and refocused his attention on more promising pursuits. Perhaps it is because it is impossible to escape the playfully antagonistic but nevertheless tender oneness of Lucas and Max. Without two of the Party’s members it is inevitable that outings take on the charming costume of double dates. (Even though Will fervently tells himself that the idea has never crossed anyone’s mind but his own.) They all go out together as often as possible but there are too many instances for comfort where it is a clear pairing of Lucas-and-Max and Mike-and-Will. Lucas and Max’s chemistry seems contagious even when it is ostensibly the four of them just hanging out.

 

And Mike… well… chivalrous, caring, infuriatingly oblivious Mike DOES NOT HELP. If confronted about it, as Will has done with typical quiet tact, he insists that his behavior is that of a dutiful best friend. When he reaches over Will to pay for him (always with a ready justification: ‘you need to save up for the arcade, Will’ 'you can pay me back later’ 'you don’t have enough and I’ve got extra’), or tugs Will into booths and cinema seats and couches beside him, or carelessly tucks the smaller boy into his side while they wait in lines, Will feels like his belly has become a boiling cauldron of infatuation and anxiety. When one day Mike smooths away a smear of vanilla ice cream from Will’s cheek the latter is absolutely certain he feels his soul violently eject from his body. He’s left hanging there like a video tape sticking out of a VCR waiting for someone to push his brain back in (be kind, please rewind). Why is is it that Mike only makes these thoughtlessly gentle gestures toward Will? It’s so misleading.

 

This Saturday finds them again paired. Dustin has been secured for the day by his mother or he would have been here to be single with Will. Instead, they are a foursome taking advantage of every air-conditioned building they can find in the mid-July heat. Earlier they had ridden bikes (with Max perched on the back of Lucas’) as fast as possible to the Hawk for their third viewing of Back To The Future. Now they are lazing through late afternoon in the mall. The food court had been so crowded that they retired to Scoops Ahoy, which they are allowed to sit in without buying anything if Steve is on duty. They don’t want to become mindless teenage consumers but there is nowhere quite as temperate as the shiny new shopping metropolis. In particular the nice freezer-lined ice cream parlor. It’s become a place to congregate when the heat becomes too much. It is also, Will is reminded whenever these days arrive, a choice destination for couples. He is keenly aware of this the moment Lucas asks 'what are you doing?’ when Will tries to sit beside Max instead of Mike (and Mike, the brat, looks as if he’s been rejected). Will obediently sets the lemonade he’s been nursing for an hour on the opposite side of the table and rounds it to slide into his predestined seat.

 

A tiny electric charge jolts his heart when Mike’s knees immediately cant over to rest lightly against his own. It is perfectly normal, this contact, and it should not alarm Will. They have always orbited around each other like earth and its moon. It is natural that inextricably Will stays close to his vibrant and demonstratively larger best friend. In turn Will knows that he, though small and quiet, controls Mike’s tides. They have a pull on one another that manifests physically in the way they unconsciously gravitate. If they are in the same room they are beside one another and often accidentally touch. Mike has no qualms about hugs, brushing Will’s hair out of his eyes, or lightly holding his hand when they are away from the public. It is only recently that the closeness has begun to rouse both excitement and discomfort in Will. They are being the same as they have always been. It’s his silly heart that is becoming different. (And possibly his hormones— but he avoids the thought of liking boys in general as he would an angry bear.)

 

Conversation seems to have started while Will’s head was filled with static and he tunes back into the station as covertly as possible. Lucas appears to be arguing with Mike about the possible speed and height that the newly remodeled DeLorean can achieve.

“It’s not an airplane. It would need a pressurized interior to fly that high.” Lucas asserts.

“It’s science fiction. The rules don’t apply!” Mike responds passionately, flicking one hand as if to shoo away logic and nearly smacking Will with it.

“Yeah, but Doc Brown is written as a man of science. It’d be inconsistent.”

An endeared smile draws the corners of Will’s mouth up. Lucas is, as always, the realist while Mike is the bombastic creative. If only Dustin were here to add his wealth of knowledge; that always tempers the two.

“The whole movie is inconsistent. He invented a time machine before a flying car.” Max interjects dryly.

Silence falls, as it usually does when Max joins arguments with keen observations.

 

Mike turns what little of his body is not already angled that direction toward Will. Nervously, Will picks up his drink and sucks the straw into his mouth because Mike’s dark eyes are on him big and expectant.

“But in the story it makes sense, right?” The latter says, because he knows that Will is peaceable by nature and tends to follow Mike’s lead like a duckling.

Deeply unfair tactic, that. Will hums noncommittally. Though he can be firm and fierce on subjects of value he refuses to engage in petty conflicts. Mike seems to take this as support, however, and favors Will with a fond smile before facing the pair across from them again. Such a look has been leveled in Will’s direction probably a thousand times over the past eight years so it doesn’t fluster him overmuch now. Their knees are still touching, however, and Mike has now dropped his flailing arm into Will’s space on the tabletop as well. If Will were to rest his right arm in front of him they would overlap. So he doesn’t, though a shameful part of him wants to.

In the brief moment it took for Mike to obtain what he thinks is approval from Will a different exchange has taken place between Max and Lucas. The spunky redhead is smiling at her boyfriend in that sweet bright manner reserved only for him and Lucas is looking back with a somewhat dopey smile. It’s an intimate portrait and such moments are partially responsible for the ‘date’ atmosphere. From the corner of his eye Will can see Mike’s lips thin as they often do in these situations. Mike and Max have softened into friendship over the past half year but the former is envious of the romantic interactions he seldom has access to himself. Will isn’t a jealous person but he can relate to wanting to express the fluttering warmth of first love.  Just once he’d like the world’s permission to rest his head on Mike’s steady shoulder. To tangle their fingers together as if their feelings are roots beneath a budding tree and in doing so know that this is right. Lucas and Max are an aspiration that none of them have been able to replicate.

 

Lucas breaks his two friends out of their brooding.

“I’m going to get us some ice cream. It’s too hot.” He announces.

By ‘us’ they all know he means himself and Max. And that, Will, realizes, means they are straying into ‘date’ territory. It has been part of the relationship contract that Lucas may only dote on Max when they share a bi-monthly date. That this should coincide with a group hang-out does not seem to bother either of them. Max detests the social conventions of men doing everything for women (‘like I can’t do things for myself!’) and doesn’t invest heavily in traditions. Lucas likes to do nice things for her but delights in Max’s fiery independence.

“Good idea. I’ll come too.” Mike responds, his chair squealing along the floor as he rises too quickly.

Max rolls her eyes at his misunderstanding of intent but her mouth is twitching in amusement. Mike really is completely hopeless. Lucas just doesn’t react as he threads through the other freestanding tables toward the bank of ice cream tubs with Mike close behind.

 

“I feel kind of sorry for him sometimes.” Max muses, blue eyes focused on Mike’s back but clearly speaking to Will.

He takes a moment to reply as he gathers his thoughts; he is a careful person and doesn’t want to intimate his complex feelings on the matter.

“He’ll be better when El is around more.” Will says, both sensible and instinctively placating.

“You think so?” There’s an odd note in Max’s voice but Will is not certain what it means.

“Yeah, definitely.”

His stomach clenches a little in memory of Mike and El’s hands swinging between them with identical loving smiles glowing in the summer sunset. But Will reminds himself that it makes two of his favorite people happy so his emotions should be the same. He owes them that much for all they have given and suffered. Max regards Mike pensively for a few moments more and then turns her thoughtful stare on Will. He wonders what it is she sees. Does she sense his inner conflict? That would not be entirely surprising. The girl is observant and probably smarter about the inner workings of people than any of them.

“As long as he doesn’t act even more insufferable.” Max says with a quirk of her brow and humor in her tone.

Will can’t help but smile.

 

Conversation turns to more cheerful matters as they wait for the boys to return. Will has grown quite fond of Max’s blunt yet warm personality. She seems to hold people at arm’s length but he knows that she would be someone you’d want at your back through a war. (Already has proven her loyalty, from recollections of the year before.) Max has always been gentlest with Will yet never smothering. She respects his strength but makes her support known. They have all come to love and value her, even El. By the time  Lucas and Mike return Max and Will have become engaged in a lively discussion of her trip to the Getty. Will loves to hear stories about the wide world outside Hawkins and especially the culture she had been exposed to in California. When he entertains the idea of moving beyond this cramped town filled with bad memories he longs to see the places she describes.

 

“Here, Will.” Mike’s insistent voice says.

Pulled from his thoughts mid-sentence Will looks up and— oh. He should have expected that. Mike is extending a cone filled with vanilla ice cream topped by Reese’s Pieces toward him. Oblivious, sweet boy strikes again. Lucas snorts at the startled expression on Will’s face because they all know that this situation is too common to warrant surprise. Yet Will always is because he doesn’t understand why Mike is so specifically attentive to him. Nor does he feel like he deserves it.

“Oh um… thanks, Mike.” He offers awkwardly, reaching to take the cold treat from his friend.

Their fingers drag across each other as the cone transfers hands and Will is left tingling. Mike, utterly unaffected, plops back into his chair with his own Neapolitan-topped cone held protectively above the table. He spreads his giraffe legs carelessly and bumps into Will again. Their thighs are now resting against each other. Will isn’t sure if the warmth that immediately sets into his muscles is their shared body heat or a figment of his imagination.

 

“You don’t have to thank me, you know.” Mike says with perhaps more seriousness than this exchange warrants.

“My mom taught me manners.” Will deadpans.

The quip doesn’t betray how pleased yet overwhelmed by the contact he is. Mike laughs and a little thrill goes through Will at the sound.

“Mine tried to teach me things but I never learn. I don’t thank people, never kiss my grandma, and I won’t eat my peas.” Mike returns in a snarky tone.

And this too is familiar. They learned humor together and play off one another with practiced ease. It is natural for Mike to extend his arm across the back of Will’s chair and lean slightly toward his friend as they banter. A cold bead of ice cream drips down Will’s wrist as he stills, too aware of the shrinking space to lift it to his mouth. He wrests a witty retort from the teeming crowd of his thoughts.

“That’s why we make you DM so much. You’re a terrible Paladin.”

Mike theatrically gasps and leans back in feigned distress. The pinched expression on his face is adorable.

“That was harsh, Will. And after I bought you ice cream!”

Freed from the invisible pressure on his personal space Will turns around and impertinently licks his melting dessert.  

 

Lucas and Max have subtly turned toward one another and are talking quietly while they eat. Clearly they have retreated into their couple bubble and should be disturbed at others’ peril. That leaves Will and Mike once again a duo. Which they always have been to some degree but these days in a different way. Sitting side by side with ice cream, legs gently meeting, should be friendly. It is. Yet there is a couple across from them doing exactly the same thing and others in close enough proximity to make Will feel the expectations weighing on him. Were a homophobe to look at them surely they would interpret this as exactly what Will half-wishes it was. Mike smiles at him, lips reddened by the chill of the ice cream, and an answering pinkness rises in Will’s cheeks. If he were standing up he would be comforting himself with nervous swaying but he isn’t so instead he busies himself with meticulously keeping his ice cream a perfect sphere.

 

A few minutes pass in silence. It would be companionable if Will were not hyper-aware of the boy beside him from the points where their bodies meet to the thoughtless generosity of Mike’s gesture. He resents that these silly feelings are burdening him right now. He wants to lean into the reassuring wall of the other boy; he knows Mike will never deny Will whatever it is he needs. And Mike always seems to know intuitively what will comfort or cheer Will— has been this way since their bond was a downy fledgling in the nest of first friendship. Sometimes, usually when they are at home alone or lying in the tent they sometimes erect on the Wheeler’s lawn, Will’s heart settles and the pair are as soft and aligned as they used to be. Mike has always been so easy to be with. The easiest person after Jonathan and most constant of his friends. Will doesn’t want that to change… though he supposes that with puberty it was inevitable. He could no more keep Mike from liking a girl than he can stop himself crushing on someone. It’s just his ill-starred luck that his first genuine crush (actors do not count) is on his best friend.

 

“What’s wrong?” A voice queries softly from his right.

Will pauses rotation of his cone to slide his gaze toward its source. There is a creased, pursed-lipped expression of worry on Mike’s face. He tries to hide that face from Will but the latter has seen it regardless over the past year and a half.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

It’s a lie and Will is terrible at deceiving his best friend. He can sometimes fool his other friends and family but to Mike he has always been transparent. The other boy knows all of his tells. Will schools his muscles into relaxation and his face to the closest approximation of guilelessness he can manage. The frown on Mike’s brow deepens as he studies Will’s features.

“You’ve been weird lately. Especially when we’re like this. Did I do something?”

Guilt pools between Will’s organs at the question. He would never under any circumstances want Mike to feel at fault for his own selfish preoccupation.

“No! Of course not!” He insists.

“I mean… I’ve been trying to… y’know, make you happy.” Mike confesses, slow and low as if he’s dragging the words from his throat while they dig their heels in.

The hot guilt in his stomach seems to well and wash over Will until he can feel it flowing up his neck.

“You have?”

Was that what his generosity had been about? Will isn’t sure whether that makes him feel worse or better. Mike gazes at him searchingly, as if looking for understanding and not finding it.

“You didn’t notice?” He asks with thinly veiled disbelief.

 

“I knew you were being nice to me but you’re always nice, Mike.” Will points out the obvious.

When the other boy merely continues to stare at him Will knows his earlier lie was not convincing.

“You didn’t do anything bad, I promise. I’m sorry if I’ve been acting strange. Just stuff going on in my head.” Will tries to reassure, tacking on a smile to the end of the sentence.

Mike carefully balances his half-eaten ice cream kiddie cone on the table and turns to focus fully on Will.

“Can we talk about it?”

Another person would have said ‘would you like to’ but they both know that Will never truly wants to talk about his problems. However, he has always shared with Mike what he keeps from everyone else. Thus it is a direct request instead of a nebulous offer. But not only does Will very much not want to discuss this subject but especially not here. He feels his face betray him by morphing into a nervous grimace. 

“Don’t worry about this. Please.”

The other boy looks oddly vulnerable currently and Will hates it.

“I do worry, though. You haven’t been like that with the others. Just me. You get tense and distracted. Sometimes you even look uncomfortable when I touch you. I’m starting to wonder if you want me to go away.”

 

This is turning into a confrontation he never wanted to have and Will is beginning to recognize the deeply ingrained urge to flee. He had never meant to avoid Mike. It’s honestly the last thing he wants— but he doesn’t trust himself. If he relaxes into the attention surely his developing feelings will make themselves visible. And then people will  _know_ and what a mess that will become.  

“It’s… I just…” He stutters out, floundering in the morass of possible lies and uncomfortable honesty.

Will chokes on the truth that wants to slide out of him. This is Mike, after all, and Will is being asked for the one secret he has kept locked behind the bars of his teeth. Blood is drumming against the pulse-point in his throat now. How strange that he can feel fear for something so mundane.

“Hey.” And oh no— Mike is reaching out and carefully (as if touching a frightened animal) laying his hand atop Will’s forearm. “Breathe, okay? Go slow.”

Despite his absolute certainty that touch will only increase his anxiety Will has been conditioned to quiet when Mike gentles him like this. His mind stops frothing and his tight chest opens. For a moment the roar of the busy mall recedes and he can only hear one voice. That voice that he followed out of the Upside Down on more than one occasion. Mike has some decidedly unflattering sides to his personality but he’s always been a safe place for Will, even on the rare occasion when the former snaps at him. God, Will loves him.

 

“Sorry. We really shouldn’t talk about it. Especially not here.” Will finally says.

“Because we’re in public?”

A sharp nod is Mike’s answer. The hand on Will’s arm lingers for a few heartbeats more and then withdraws.

“Alright. We’ll talk later.” Mike allows, firm but kind as he consistently is toward this specific person.

 _‘Why do you think I’ll tell you later?’_ , Will wonders then realizes it is probably because it is true.

“I guess we’ll just enjoy the rest of our date.” Mike resolves, shedding his concerned face in place of the dorky grin Will likes best.

A physical jolt goes through Will at the words and he just barely avoids dropping his ice cream. Lest he actually do so he sets it down as Mike has.

 

“What?!” He croaks out, eyes aching with how far they have widened.

“What?” Mike echoes, though he is less shocked and more perplexed.

“You said— this isn’t a  _date_ , Mike!” Will’s newly deepened voice has gone higher and breaks every couple of words.

“It is now. Look.” Mike gestures to Lucas and Max, who if they have noticed the emotions going on across from them (which they surely have) are politely ignoring  the crisis.

“Yes but we’re not doing  _that_! We’re not a couple!”

Mike tips his head to the side as if trying to puzzle out why Will is panicking. Is Mike joking? Will can usually read his best friend like a billboard but this makes no sense in the context of reality. It is conceivable that he is teasing but what a thing to jest! Why would that avenue of humor even occur to him? He has been raised by staunch Republicans and only been aware of romantic entanglements for two years.

 

While questions race through Will’s mind like skittish deer Mike answers that last question. “Not really, but also sort of. We go on dates and just don’t call them that.”

“We don’t.” Will protests then wonders at what an ironic turn of events this is.

After all his secret yearning to be together that way with Mike, when faced with the opportunity he is thrusting it away.

“Seriously, Will? What did you think was going on for months?” Now the other boy sounds slightly exasperated with a razor’s edge of hurt.

Will has rocketed back to the frantic state that he felt before being momentarily comforted.  _‘Damn it, Mike, make up your mind whether you want to soothe or mess with me!’_

“We’re friends. It’s normal to be together.” His voice is rolling discordantly like inexperienced fingers over piano keys.

“Yeah, but we’re doing exactly the same things as Lucas and Max. And everyone else who dates. What, did you want me to kiss you or something?”

The last sentence should be spoken as if it is disgusting or at the least absurd but Mike’s voice offers a genuine question. As if that were a choice. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Is it possible for a healthy fourteen-year-old to expire of cardiac arrest?

 

When Will finds himself strangled by the thin cord of Mike’s question the other boy puffs out a frustrated sigh.

“Is that what this is about? You don’t think I like you?”

That, at least, is a simpler answer to give. Will must collect himself before he ends up saying something incriminating or submits to the temptation of running all the way home.

“I know you like me. But not the way you like El.”

A haze of deja vu rolls in. Most certainly Will has seen this exact conversation play out in stories and overheard arguments. Generally it leads up to an impassioned confession and happy ending. Neither of which will be gifted to him.

“I don’t go on dates with El.” Mike responds flatly, as if this were obvious.

Will feels himself paradoxically rally at the tone but can’t move far enough along the tightrope of that courage to meet Mike’s eyes.

“You want to.”

Everyone overheard the romantic declaration upon their reunion last November. A year of dedicated pining made a powerful statement. Mike and El were the dramatic, tragic stuff of lauded fiction. The only reason the two were not fawning over one another daily was El’s forced confinement.

 

“I want to spend time with her.” Mike agrees.

Will nods, having encouraged and expected this statement. He is not certain what comes next— further verification or the end of the conversation— but apparently Mike is not finished.

“But I want to go on dates with you.”

There is nothing obscure about this. It sits between them like concrete-weighted signage. Will feels stunned as if he has bumped his head on the sharp metal corner. To affirm that he has heard correctly he peers at Mike first from the corner of his vision and then, seeing that the other boy is looking at him with that painfully earnest expression Mike saves for impressing important ideas on someone, turns the rest of his face.  

 

The redundant urge to ask ‘what?’ bubbles to the back of his throat but Will can see that there is nothing to be confused over. Mike is serious. He can’t be— it defies all logic and the laws that govern Will’s life— yet he is. And realization blooms in the confines of Will’s ribs. Acceptance of this bizarre and agitating truth follows.

“Oh.” He whispers.

Belatedly Mike becomes embarrassed as if finally realizing the implications of his words. He winds one arm around the back of his chair and grips a rung like it anchors him. Beneath the starry sky of his freckles a blush begins to burn.

“I know we can’t— not really. Not like Lucas and Max with the hand-holding and going to dances and everyone knowing.” He mutters, sounding rather put out over their stymied intimacy. “But we can do this. I thought you wanted to.”

Will swallows thickly. All this time he thought that Mike was hapless and blind to how his devotion appeared. Now he is learning that he, Will, was the greater fool. In his defense he could not be expected to know his socially unacceptable feelings were returned. But he had been so absorbed in his fear of losing Mike and the shame Hawkins taught him that he had completely missed the truth. The worrying, wonderful, inexplicable reality.

 

“I was working really hard to pretend I don’t like you that way.” Will says hesitantly.

He feels the full weight of this ongoing burden as never before. But there is also a renewal of energy to bear it circulating through his soul.

“I knew that. I guess it was kind of selfish to just force it on you. You always go along with me and never pull away so I figured it was okay to do what we both really wanted. I thought you wanted to, anyway.” Self-deprecation is seeping into Mike’s voice.

Here is something that always spurs Will to overcome his reservations: someone else is hurt. Like a medic running to an injured person he cannot help but forget whatever is troubling him and focus on healing.

“I did. I still do.” He replies with conviction. “It’s scary, though. Don’t you worry about other people’s reactions?”

Mike opens his mouth to respond with something no doubt his reckless brand of brave but another voice interrupts from across the table.

“If we minded we would have said so. Everyone else doesn’t need to know. And screw them for being judgmental assholes.” Lucas interjects fiercely.

They whip around to stare open-mouthed at their friend, who is looking at them with a very unimpressed air. There is a fire in his eyes, however, as if the mere idea of anyone bullying his friends has him poised to fight. Knowing Lucas he definitely would. He understands all too intimately what being targeted for something you can’t help is like and stopped standing for it after the fight with the bad men.

 

Max looks appropriately annoyed at their disbelief.

“Stop gaping. Like we were going to react badly. We’ve known for a while what was going on because Mike is an idiot and super obvious.” She chides, somehow sounding simultaneously impatient and affectionate.

“That’s only because I wasn’t trying to hide it.” Mike argues because his ego cannot take the challenge.

Lucas sighs sharply and buries his spoon in his ice cream cup so that he can lean forward over the table. He speaks a little lower so that they won’t be overheard (as if the damage would not already be done).

“Mike, man, even if you aren’t doing the date thing you stare at Will all googly-eyed and totally freak out if anything upsets him.”

If Mike was pink before now he glows scarlet. Flustered, Will ducks his head away from Lucas’ knowing gaze . His friend’s observations turn over in his head like blocks being examined from every angle in curious hands. Does Mike really look at him like that? He has always been so fixated on noticing the manner in which El is viewed that he never deciphered what is directed at him.

 

His wisdom bequeathed, Lucas retreats into a casual posture and picks up his spoon again. “Now eat your ice cream and chill out. I’m trying to enjoy my girlfriend, here.”

“Your girlfriend, huh? Is this an equal ownership agreement?” Max teases, pretending to be irritated.

A toothy grin stretches over Lucas’ face. Just as sweetness is typical of Mike and Will fond ribbing is the style most prevalent to he and Max.

“Sure is. You let me buy you ice cream and in return you can publicly humiliate me by kicking my high scores’ ass.” Lucas responds breezily.

“I do that anyway, Stalker.”

Lucas’ narrow shoulders shrug as if to say ‘what can you do?’ and he casually (and a bit sneakily) extends his arm over the back of Max’s chair. They’ve forgotten Mike and Will again. Or perhaps, if their testimony is to be believed, they are giving their companions privacy to be stupid and awkward until the other two get their shit together.

 

Will stares at his second oldest friend for another minute or so, helplessly dumbfounded but feeling release. He had not thought poorly of his friends specifically but somehow they had been absorbed into the cloudy tapestry of ‘everyone’ when he imagined negative reactions. Yet here are two of his friends and the boy he likes— loves, though he is too young to be ‘in love’ yet— embracing him as readily as they ever have. As if he was silly for ever wondering. It wasn’t as if Will could help that; it was one thing for them to accept what had been done to him and another to allow what he  _is_.

“Well… I guess that wasn’t something you needed to be concerned about.” Mike draws Will from his thoughts.

A trepidatious frown twists Will’s mouth.

“You really weren’t?”

“Yeah, I guess a little. I don’t want the whole town knowing because that would be dangerous. But I almost lost you twice. I want to show you how I feel in case…” Mike pauses, a flash of pain in his eyes like a lightning strike. “I want us to be happy because we never know what’s going to happen.”

Will feels an immense pressure on the inside of his skin as his emotions swell.

 

“Okay. We can do that.” Will decides, bashful but now smiling.

The other boy’s spine straightens as he perks up like an eager puppy. It’s such an authentically ‘Mike’ reaction. Will feels warmed through by the fact it has been summoned by the idea of them dating.

“Yeah?” Mike’s tone is endearingly hopeful.

“Mm-hm.” Will responds, unable to quell the mischievous urge to rile Mike again.

It is put to good use. The latter is beaming as if given a gift he’s been wanting for ages. Perhaps he has.

“Awesome.” Mike unnecessarily declares.

They cannot be more open than they have been but this is real. Will is the chosen recipient of his best friend’s special affections. The behavior may not change but the meaning will. That is going to take some getting used to. Butterfly wings of excitement tickle Will’s belly. They had already, apparently, been dating yet it is entirely different to have settled into mutual agreement about it. The pleasure of willing reciprocation is heady. Perhaps things will be much easier now. Will can cease agonizing, for one. Because Mike  _likes_ him. Him, a fellow boy with a wealth of issues and doubts. It’s so unlikely he could never have imagined it.

 

Smiles are shared for a little longer than appropriate for friends. Will notices Mike place his unoccupied arm on the table and scoot it close. He’s wishing they could hold hands, Will realizes with a pleased flutter in his chest. They do not, for that would be a little too romantic for this location, but they both know it is desired. That should be saved for home. And oh, what a wonderful thought that is. Mike would not mind if Will obeyed his fantasy of twining fingers. They have only to be in the right place. A world of possibility is opening before him. Do dates at home count? Can they curl together on the basement couch as couples do? Maybe put his arms around Mike and breath in the scent of safety? He wants to ask but cannot seem to articulate his wants. Will has a feeling he will not have to, though, because Mike always knows.

 

Suddenly the smile on Mike’s face twists into something displeased. For a heart-stopping second Will thinks the other boy has come to his senses and will say ‘never mind’ about this entire exchange. But then he lifts his resting arm and examines it. A thick band of murky brown is smeared almost from wrist to elbow. The tension in Will dissipates immediately and he laughs in equal parts relief and amusement. Mike mirrors him instinctively and soon they’ve devolved into a fit of laughter. Across the table Max and Lucas raise their eyebrows in synch. When they’ve recovered from their hilarity everyone observes the puddled mess marring the formica table. It has pooled in every direction, the vanilla indistinguishable from the strawberry and chocolate.

“Wow, the ice cream melted everywhere.” Mike exclaims.

Yes— Mike has that effect, Will thinks fondly as they both seize napkins from the dispenser and tackle cleaning the sticky surface.

**Author's Note:**

> Find more of my writing on my [Tumblr](https://softzombieboy.tumblr.com/tagged/peter-writes)!


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